


At First Sight

by DixieDale



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 02:10:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18043463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Though he'd never thought about it much, it kinda made sense.  Well, if you could have love at first sight (and Carter, of all people, knew doggone well you COULD) it only made sense you could have hate at first sight.  Well, maybe just dislike.  (His mom had always hated, I mean 'disliked' that word - hate.)  Yeah, that sounded a little better.  Not much, but a little bit.





	At First Sight

Carter disliked him at first sight, the new man, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. I mean, Andrew Carter wasn't really big on disliking people in the first place, and for it to happen with no reason? That didn't make any sense to him. And it kept growing, that dislike, and that REALLY didn't make much sense, cause everyone else seemed to like him just fine. The new guy. Rod Pearlman.

Rod Pearlman wasn't particularly exceptional, seemed outwardly pleasant enough for a man caught up in the middle of a war, stuck in a prisoner of war camp with no way out. He was a very well-educated man, enough Hogan sought him out for conversation more than he did anyone else now, and he used to play in a band, just like the Colonel, which gave them another connection. Pearlman might have been a little taken aback by the presence of Kinch and the other few black men in the camp, and he kept his distance, but he didn't go out of his way to be obnoxious like some guys had. 

He'd been a little taken aback by Newkirk, too, but soon was laughing at the card tricks and the occasional exhibitions of slight of hand from the Englishman. If there wasn't any great warmth in the laughter initially, at least there was no animosity. And soon, Pearlman could be found sitting across from Newkirk, asking him about the tricks, about his background, listening to Newkirk's stories and telling some of his own, and now the laughter was real, another shared connection, it would seem.

Pearlman found ways to be useful, too. He had some training as a medic, so that gave Scotty Wilson someone to help when things got rough; it wasn't long before they were sharing duties a lot. Wilson appreciated the break; that last round of flu had pretty well worn him out. 

The newcomer could talk food with LeBeau; said his dad ran a restaurant back home in Philly. Laughed and took LeBeau's side when Newkirk started complaining about 'all the bloody French cooking that goes on round 'ere'. Talked French with LeBeau, too, and Italian with Gio in Barracks 6 where Pearlman was billeted, even some Spanish with the two guys in Barracks 3 who knew that. 

Hogan was starting to look at Pearlman with a great deal of interest, wondering if maybe the new guy mightn't be a good addition to the crew. He'd put out feelers with the men in his command team, and although he hadn't gotten a lot of enthusiasm, based on the "we don't really know him that well yet, Colonel. I think we need to give it some more time," from Kinch, Hogan figured he'd probably make that addition pretty soon. The guys would get used to having someone else on the team; look how quick they'd accepted Carter. Talking Klink into moving Pearlman to Barracks 2 wouldn't be much of a chore; a little flattery, a little misdirection, it would all fall into place whenever Hogan was ready. 

Yeah, Pearlman was fitting in real good. Seems the only ones who felt uncomfortable around him were Carter and the dogs. The dogs watched, stared whenever Pearlman got near the kennels, and the hair on their backs would go up, all stiff, and just a low level growl would start trickling out. It was quite the sight, the prisoner just minding his own business but coming one step closer than it seemed the canine crew liked, then every single dog was standing at the wire, on guard, staring, a low in-unison rumble making a weird kind of music.

Carter felt pretty much the same, even felt the hair on the back on his neck stand on end sometimes around the man, but the time or two he'd given the rest a try, that low level growl and steady stare (just to see how it felt, you know), Newkirk had slapped him on the back of his head and, finally, after the last episode, had given a sharp whisper of "stop that, Andrew! W'at's gotten into you anyways?"

Carter flushed and hung his head, "I don't know, just something about the guy gets to me!"

Newkirk snorted, "well, I kinda figured that out, Andrew. Question is, w'at is it that gets to you? Come on, give it up, mate."

"Like I said, I don't know. Oh, I know everyone likes him, and he's fitting in real good." Now Carter was just looking miserable, not really wanting to admit all the unkind things he had going on in the back of his mind. Still, it was Newkirk doing the asking, so he tried to explain.

"Maybe that's it; everyone likes him. He just seems to connect with just about everyone, from the Colonel to Scotty and LeBeau and you and lots of others. And the ones he's not gotten tight with, at least they all seem to think he's an alright guy. The Colonel's even talking about bringing him on the team. Maybe I'm just jealous," he admitted.

Newkirk was the one frowning now, "jealous, Andrew? W'at would you be jealous of?" He wasn't arguing, just trying to understand what had Andrew so upset. Andrew's mind worked in some strange patterns sometimes, and while Newkirk could sometimes figure it out on his own, the effort usually left him with a headache and he just wasn't in the mood right now.

Andrew looked into his friend's eyes and tried to explain, but maybe leaving out just how much he did NOT like Pearlman sitting across from Newkirk, the two of them laughing, swoping stories and things like that. Anyway, maybe it WAS jealousy, having his best friend pay that much attention to someone else, but actually, it felt more like Peter was in some kind of danger, just sitting there with Pearlman, and Peter not even seeing it.

"He's likeable, and useful, and he fits in almost everywhere. That could be real helpful, I know, and I should be good with that, but I'm NOT! It feels like he's some big octopus or a giant squid, all those tentacles and sucker pads attaching to everything and everyone! Well, everyone except me and the dogs."

Newkirk knew better than to take that at face value; you just didn't do that with Andrew, he'd learned. 

"And you WANT him to, cozy up to you, I mean?"

The shock and dismay on Andrew's face told him he'd been right in doubting all of that. 

"Heck, no!! The guy, he gives me the creeps, if you wanna know! It's like one a those stories Langenscheidt tells, some friendly uncle moves in with a family and they all really like him and then weird stuff starts happening. Like we're all gonna wake up some morning with fang marks on our necks or something!"

Now THAT Newkirk had NOT been expecting!! 

"Well, I doubt 'e's a bloomin vampire, Andrew, but if you say there's something off about the guy, I'll take another look, okay?"

The dismay on Andrew's face was turning to relief now; if there was anyone Carter trusted to figure this out, it was Newkirk! Yeah, maybe it would seem Hogan would be more likely, being the one in charge and all, but Hogan was enjoying the guy's company too much, already talking about bringing him in on the setup. Newkirk, with his built-in skepticism, HE'D be able to figure out if Carter was just being a jerk or whether there was really something there. 

And he could trust Newkirk to level with him, too; if he was wrong, then he was wrong and he'd just have to admit it and try to see the good in the guy. If he was right, well, Carter wasn't too sure what he'd do if he was right, what he COULD do even. But for now, he'd wait, to find out if he was just being a jerk after all.

Newkirk would have snorted at that. Yeah, he could see Hogan was really liking this new guy and wouldn't want to hear anything against him without proof. And Carter could be just flat out wrong about Pearlman. But Carter wouldn't know how to be a jerk, not for real anyway. If Andrew thought the guy was wonky, then Newkirk was going to take a good hard look, and then another and maybe another.

Ralphie, the big boss dog from the kennels, he didn't need a good hard look; he knew what and who he liked and didn't, and this new man was definitely on Ralphie's shit list. Well, that was obvious when Ralphie, headed out for foot patrol with Corporal Langenscheidt, caught sight of the man, pulled the leash away and dashed off, getting Rod Pearlman pinned against the side of the delousing shed. The yells and barking and snarling drew other guards and Hogan and the command team along with quite a few other of the prisoners. The sight of the mild-mannered Ralphie, hair bristling, lips drawn back, a deep growl rumbling from between those very sharp teeth, caused more than a little consternation. Langenscheidt had gotten close enough to grab the leash again, was doing his best at controlling the furious dog, but Pearlman yelling that Langenscheidt had set Ralphie on him on purpose wasn't helping matters much. It had taken Schultz to calm the guards down, Hogan to get the prisoners back under control, and Newkirk and LeBeau pulling Pearlman out of the mix to get things quieted down. 

"Ei, Pearlman, w'at set the dog off, any idea?" Newkirk asked the red-faced and puffing fellow prisoner. LeBeau was equally puzzled; Ralphie might put on a good show for the Germans, but he was an exceptionally agreeable dog around the prisoners.

"Told you! The damned Kraut set him on me; woulda let him tear me apart if you guys hadn't come running up!" Pearlman fumed. LeBeau started to protest that, but a quick signal from Newkirk had him just patting Pearlman on the arm, offering to "get you a cup of coffee, n'est pas? Come, we will sit, and you will get your breath back." 

Newkirk stood watching the two of them headed over to Barracks 2, then he went to have a word with Langenscheidt.

Later, drawling deep on his cigarette before handing it off to Andrew, "approached Langenscheidt a couple a days ago when Langenscheidt was putting the dogs away. Started talking about a couple things 'e thought 'e might be interested in. Conversation never got going enough for Karl to figure out just w'at 'e 'ad in mind. You know 'ow the new dog is, always wanting to be petted, and seems Pearlman didn't much like Zelig getting too close. 'auled off and tried to give 'er a good kick in the ribs. Scared Zelig, got Ralphie's temper up. Didn't seem Langenscheidt was in any too good a frame about it either; says 'e'd thought about going to 'ogan about it, but figured 'e'd just keep the dogs away for now. Aint like Zelig would've done any 'arm, either, Andrew, other than getting 'air all over 'is clothes from trying to curl up in 'is lap; you know 'ow she is. Course, maybe 'e just don't do well with dogs; not everyone does. Seems Ralphie's got a good memory, 'e sees Pearlman today, 'e goes flying yanking the leash loose." 

Carter took his own turn on the cigarette before handing it back. "Well, that's not good. I mean, if the Colonel goes ahead and pulls him in, what happens when we run into the dogs outside the fence? And you KNOW he lied about Langenscheidt; he's never been mean with us, even when we've maybe given him reason to be upset." 

"Better do w'at we can to see the Colonel doesn't go that far. Starting to see some things with Pearlman I want to take a closer look at, Andrew. Langenscheidt says the w'ole thing with Zelig 'appened out back of the Kommandant's quarters; don't know w'at Pearlman woulda been doing over there in the first place."

So he TOOK a closer look, at a whole lot of things. Had a few conversations with a few people. Smoked a few cigarettes, came to a few conclusions. 

"So I braced 'im, and 'e offered to cut me in on the action," a disgusted Newkirk was explaining to Hogan in the privacy of the tunnels below. "Says between the two of us, 'is skills and mine, we could own the whole bloody place, 'ave you and the Krauts going in circles. Didn't tell 'im we ALREADY got all that covered, of course, well, the Krauts anyway," snorting a decidedly non-amused laugh. He was still more than a little pissed he hadn't spotted all that activity; that was his kind of operation after all!

"Seems 'e's got 'is fingers into a 'ell of lot for being 'ere such a short time. Snaffles things from Scotty's supplies, found a few buyers. Goes further, too. Those who come in for 'elp when Scotty's not there? They 'ave to slip 'im a little something before 'e'll lift a finger. A couple a the things ole Klink was complaining about being missing? Under a floorboard in Barracks 6, under Gio's bunk, but you know that aint Gio's gig, and sides, Gio knows nothing like that goes down without you ordering it."

"Oh, and you might want to 'ave a little chat with 'ilda, sir; seems 'e's been busy there. Just the start of a caper, I'd think, but a few 'ints that she needs to be real friendly, real cooperative, or all sorts a things could go wrong." He knew that would thoroughly piss off Hogan if all the rest didn't; the officer considered Hilda his own personal on-site 'be real friendly, be real cooperative' person. Well, one of them, anyway. And with Hilda, Hogan didn't use threats, just charm.

"So, his skills. He's another you? Think he could help with the jobs? If I can keep him under control?" Hogan's face was thoughtful as he pondered the possibilities.

Now it was Newkirk who flushed. Maybe he shouldn't have been insulted, but he was. 

"Not bloody likely! Got the ideas, 'e does, some skill, but a bully boy. More'n likely to sell us out to the 'ighest bidder, 'e gets the chance. Aint the first time a bad un 'as tried that, now is it?"

Hogan was still considering all that, still thinking maybe Pearlman might be useful, figuring he could get a tap on the guy, handle him so there wasn't a downside, when the man crossed a line. With Hogan, with the rest of the command team certainly. 

Hogan and LeBeau had come around the corner to find Pearlman shoving Carter up against the wall behind Barracks 6. They were just in time to hear the man snarling, "you think I don't know who set Newkirk on me? Nobody messes in my business. Had to offer him a buy-in just to get him to shut up! I'll find a way around that, easy enough, and he's gonna regret messing with me, but you, you little shit? You're gonna pay now! Funny thing about prison camps; all kinds a things happen, accidents and such! Wonder what kinda accident YOU'RE gonna have? Besides fatal, I mean," raising one hand holding that metal bar he'd found somewhere. "Maybe you slipped and hit your head, maybe??"

Pearlman was so focused he didn't realize they weren't alone til Hogan grabbed his upraised arm. 

Hogan's voice was soft, noncommital. "What's up, Pearlman, what's going on? Carter tick you off about something?"

Pearlman shifted back into smooth operator mode. "Hell, yeah. He's been talking shit about me, Colonel, trying to get me in bad with the other guys. Got Newkirk all wound up thinking I'm running a hustle, and HIM, that Limey bastard, he decides to shake me down for part of the profits. That'd piss me off even if I WAS running a con, which I'm not! Boy, I thought they were alright guys when I got here, but NOW I gotta wonder how you put up with them. You need someone more reliable, Colonel, someone not in it just for themselves. If I was in charge, I'd find a way to get rid of them."

LeBeau snarled, "perhaps like you were intending to 'get rid of' Carter just now?"

"What??! Oh hell, I was just trying to scare him a little; get him to back off! No, maybe just get them transferred somewhere else," Pearlman protested, keeping a close eye on Hogan to see if any of the sell was going down right.

Hogan looked thoughtful, "a transfer. Hmmm, now there's an idea. Yeah, I just might have to look into that. In the meantime, I think some time in the cooler, just to keep things from getting messy. You agree, Pearlman? Sound like a plan?"

The prisoner got a quick smile on his face and quickly nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, Colonel. Both of them, right?"

Hogan's smile had gone from charming to predatory in a flash. "Actually, I was talking about you, Pearlman."

Two weeks in the cooler, then onto a truck bound for Stalag 7. The Underground would take care of intercepting the truck, getting Pearlman on his way back to London. 

"Too bloody good for 'im, to my way of thinking," Newkirk growled. LeBeau had told him all about Pearlman's plans for Carter, and his threats against Newkirk. While Newkirk figured he could have handled anything Pearlman decided to dish out, he was about as pissed as he could get about Carter's little 'accident' Pearlman had planned. It had taken a direct order from Hogan to keep Newkirk from paying a little visit to the cooler during those two weeks. Even a direct order hadn't kept Newkirk from 'helping' Pearlman into that truck; luckily Hogan was too busy talking to Klink to see that little episode. 

"True, but the guys in the other camps have enough to deal with, they don't need Pearlman and his little operation causing more grief," Kinch offered.

"Well, I've dropped a word to London; Pearlman's their problem now," Hogan said philosophically. Hogan still had a few regrets; someone like Pearlman could have been helpful, but Hogan had to wonder whether he really WOULD have been able to keep the man on a tight enough leash. Well, he couldn't have his team trying to kill each other; THAT wasn't helpful! 

Kinch didn't say anything, but he'd heard enough of that call to know Hogan hadn't been recommending punishment for Pearlman, so much as maybe HQ could find a way to make use of the man's proclivities. He figured that wasn't something the other guys needed to know; he knew it had sure left a bad taste in HIS mouth.

Hogan looked around the room - Newkirk dealing out yet another round of cards, Kinch reading a book but keeping a watchful eye on the action, Carter chattering away about who knows what, LeBeau giving Newkirk a shopping list, Newkirk giving him the fisheye because "sounds like more of that bleedin French cooking you keep trying to palm off as real food, LeBeau; just w'at the 'ell is wrong with bangers and mash for a change, ei?", he had to admit, the guys he had, as annoying as they were sometimes, really were pretty damned effective. No, he was better off with the guys in his team. And besides, someone like Pearlman, someone like that just might try to interfere in Hogan's plans; that just couldn't be allowed. 

Later, watching Carter mix some foul smelling chemicals in his lab, Newkirk assured him, "so now even the Colonel knows Pearlman was a bad un, Andrew."

"Well, at least I wasn't just being a jerk," Carter sighed, watching the color go from grey to red, trying to remember if that was a good thing or a bad thing. {"Okay, red is good, blue would be bad. Uh, or was it the other way around?"}. He was just getting ready to suggest Newkirk move to the next tunnel til he knew for sure, when he remembered the caption in that chemistry book. He breathed a hugh sigh of relief. 

"Yeah, red is good."

Newkirk frowned, "well I bloody well 'ope so, Andrew, since you've got a w'ole big glass of red in your 'ands! Anyway, as I was saying, or as YOU were saying and I was agreeing with, no, you weren't being a jerk. Not sure w'at caused the bells to go off for you and not me or one of the others, but next time they do go ringing? You let us know, right off, right??!" 

He turned and started to head off, then turned back. "And, Andrew, from w'ere I'm standing, you aint got an ounce of jerk anyw'ere inside you. Just saying, mate."

Carter stood there, staring down the tunnel after Newkirk, holding that beaker, for a long time; long enough for Kinch to come looking for him. 

"You okay, Andrew?" wondering at that loopy grin on his team mate's face.

"Okay? I'm great, Kinch, couldn't be better!" and although Kinch would have sworn it wasn't possible, that grin got even wider. "You ever think about words, Kinch? I mean, how a set of words can mean one thing, and those same words can mean something else, something a whole lot more, even if the person saying the words might not really understand that what he's saying's not really what he's saying, but a whole bunch more? Cause, sometimes it happens like that. I remember the time my mom told my dad . . ." That whole convoluted, confusing monologue went on for another few minutes before Andrew stopped, sighed, still with that sappy smile on his face. "Ya know?" he asked Kinch, hopefully.

Kinch figured he had at least three ways he could go from there. He could try to understand what Carter'd just said, and maybe give himself a headache. He could ask for more of an explanation in HOPES of understanding, and guarantee himself that headache, a heck of a big one. Or, and he chose number three, "yeah, Andrew. I get it. Don't know that I've ever heard anyone say it better!"


End file.
